


Manaveris Dracona

by Incaensor



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dorian/Cole friendship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Epic Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-30
Updated: 2015-09-30
Packaged: 2018-04-24 04:23:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4905340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Incaensor/pseuds/Incaensor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian was drunk, and Cole noticed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Manaveris Dracona

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a small piece about healing and putting yourself back together. Please ignore the awful formatting, HTML is the bane of my existence and I am fixing it as we speak.

Dorian was drunk, and Cole noticed. 

This in itself was not strange; Dorian was quite often as he put it, 'merry.' But his drunkenness looked different tonight; his eyes were not sparkling, but glassy and wet, fixed with empty stare into the rising bubbles in his glass, following them until they started to blur with tears.  
Usually, Dorian would be busy casually arguing with Sera, her raucous laughter reverberating around the tavern, their cheeks ignited with a passionate blush as they slagged each other off with glee, much to the annoyance of everybody else, who looked on with confusion at their violent banter.

Often, Krem would join them; Sera wasn't sure of him, not at first, but after a few hours, she drunkenly patted him on the back and told him he'd got more balls than any other guy she'd met - much to the annoyance of Dorian, who proclaimed he had triple the balls Krem had. Krem had snorted and said that if Dorian had three balls, could he please let Krem have one of them?  
But today, Dorian was drunk, and he was alone. It was clear in the hunch of his back and the look on his face. _leave me alone_.

Cole was lingering nearby, his expression patient and kind. He wanted to help Dorian.

He moved closer and as if putting his head into the mouth of a lion, began to move his fingers through the mass of crossed wires that was Dorian's head.  
Pain, mostly. Anger coating it, white hot to the touch and Cole almost let it scathe him with liquid hotness, burning him, hurting. Dorian was a myriad of pain and anger and love, something so complex and alive. 

Better than some, Cole thought. The ones that had gone grey inside like frozen roots and dead butterflies and any attempt to touch them would crack them, break them.  
Dorian looked up towards Cole.  


"I know you're in my head, but I'm not in the mood, please just leave me alone." He said, his throat clogged with tears he did not wish to shed.  
"I'm helping." Cole said, sitting on the stool next to Dorian. "I want to make it hurt less." 

Dorian sighed. "Cole, do you see Bull's leg? How it has a brace?"  


_"Supported and not broken, nothing wrong with me. I am stronger than before."_  


"Yes. But you see, the brace is still there. The flesh is healed, does it hurt now?"  


Cole tilted his head slightly. _"Hurts at night, hurts when I'm alone. But not as much. It doesn't scream, not now."_  


"See? His leg is healed. But the damage - the damage is still there, the wreckage, the evidence of the battle."  
"It's his canvas. His body has been painted with pain, but he has reclaimed it. He is no one’s but his own." Dorian said. "It still hurts sometimes. But not as much, see?"

Cole was silent, considering.  


Dorian carried on. "Look at Krem, what do you see?"  


_"Men shouting names at me, my facade is shattered, I am an abomination and I am ruined and -" he smiled. "I am saved, he pulled me from purgatory."_

Dorian licked his lips, nodding. " But what do you see now?"  


Cole focused. _"The pain is in me but I am victorious, I am the Phoenix from my ashes, I am alive, and I have friends, and I am happy. Content. Still feel the pain, but not as much. Sometimes I even forget."_  


"The man that killed you. It still hurts, what he did to you?"  


Cole was quiet, and then nodded. "I try to forgive because what he did was right, to him. But not to me. "  


"It left wreckage. It left a scar, if you will. Cuts close and heal, and scars are a reminder. Of who you are, of what happened, of what you overcame. The battle you won, or the battle you lost. Is there shame in it?"  


Cole shook his head, learning, listening. "You carve into a sapling, you mark it, you hurt it. But.."  


Krem was standing on a chair, cheering at Sera downing a pint, all of them laughing, their souls glowing with joy and Cole was distracted momentarily, and then he carried on.

"The tree will keep growing, if the axe doesn't kill it. The tree grows and grows until the carving is tiny. It is still there, but it doesn't hurt as much, it fades."

Dorian nodded. "And now you understand. Sometimes, the recovery is not on forgetting but learning, growing. Growing until your scars are smaller, until the pain fades."

"But it will never go away." Cole said, sadly.  


"But it will stop hurting, eventually. One day, the scar will be so light on your skin that you have to look for it." Dorian finished, taking a drink.  
"Will your pain go away, Dorian?" 

Dorian sighed and rubbed his face, his fingers coming away damp and salty. "I imagine so, Cole. But it doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt right now."  


Cole smiled. "But you're healing yourself. Not magic ripping from the fade and replenishing, but from you. You are.. Forgiving yourself. Slowly. _It isn't my fault, it's not my choice, he loves me and I love him and there is no shame in love"_

Dorian finished his drink. "Yes, Cole,"  


Cole carried on. "You thought your heart would burst, when he told you he loved you back. Does love heal?"  


"Anything can heal you, Cole. One of Varric's tedious books or the comfort of your home or the sun on your back. It can be anything you like. A place, a thing, a person."  


"The dog in the stables, she licked my hand, she loved me because I took the thorn from her paw and gave her my bread. She made it better, she helped me. I love her, too." 

Dorian winced, still smiling. "I thought I could smell dog on you, I assumed you'd been rolling in puddles with them."  


At that moment, the Inquisitor wandered into the tavern, Varric by his side, the both of them looking tired, but beneath the layers of dirt and blood, happy.

Cole grinned wider. "You shine so bright when you see him, Dorian. The pain is still there, biting and frenzied, but it lessens when you're happy, it gets muzzled temporarily. _My inquisitor, my love._ Your heart, Dorian. It gets so light when you see him."  


Cole was still smiling when the inquisitor started making his way towards them.  
"He is afraid of wolves and red skies and failing and Corypheus, but the thing that frightens him most is the thought of losing you."  
Dorian couldn't stop the smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. 

"Evening, Cole, Dorian." He smiled, and Cole saw him brighter than the fade.  
"It's so bright, you're both so bright, like a sunrise." Cole whispered. "Both filled with pain but healing, remembering, growing. Two trees to grow gnarled and old with each-other." Cole grinned, and hopped from his stool, nodding quickly to them before he headed upstairs, his feet light and silent.  
"It will change, it won't hurt forever. It will get better." As he left, he thought of the dog in the stables, her endless adoration for him for such a simple thing. Healing him with it.

Kierael's brows were twisted slightly half in amusement and half in worry. "What was he on about this time? Did he call me a tree?"  


He scanned Dorian's face.  


"Dorian, are you alright?"  


Dorian considered for a moment. He was hurt and torn and broken up inside, something terrible and awful and pained. The thorn in his paw was gone, but the sting was still there.

But he could be put back together. He had the tools to sew the wounds shut and he could knock his bones back together . 

He would never be the same, never unmarred , a blank canvas, again. But he would still be beautiful. His pain was there, his scars still fresh and bright, but he could be alright. He would be alright, he just needed time.  


To heal. He would build himself up, he would put himself back together. He had said he was alright before, a bare-faced lie and a snakelike excuse, a deflection, but this time was different, this time-  


He smiled at the inquisitor.  


"I'm alright."  


And this time, perhaps he meant it.

Perhaps, one day, it would even be true.


End file.
